


Coffee and Courage

by Kerguelen (Slashmommy)



Series: JiGr [3]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashmommy/pseuds/Kerguelen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg working up the courage to ask Jim out on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in CSI_Slash in 2004

Greg tried to look casual as he watched Grissom and Brass walking down the hall, but he was drawing a blank on how to get Brass alone so he could talk to him. The fates, however, were siding with Greg. He managed not to cheer when Grissom got a call and said he couldn't go to lunch, but he did pump his arm in the air. He gave Brass just enough time to finish watching Grissom walk away and turn toward the exit before oh so casually bumping into him.

"Oh, hi, Captain. Sorry about that. I should've been watching where I was going."

"No harm, no foul, Sanders," Brass said with a grin. Greg's monumental amounts of energy had always amused him.

"What are you doing in our neck of the woods, if I may ask?"

"Lunch with your boss, but he got a call."

"Well, if you don't mind sitting and having a cup of coffee while I finish up a couple things, we could grab lunch together. I was supposed to be meeting Nick, but he's caught up at a crime scene."

"Is this your coffee or Hodges'?"

"Mine. I would never make someone waiting for me drink Hodges' coffee."

"Deal," Jim said as he followed Sanders back into the DNA lab.

"Have a seat," Greg said gesturing to a stool in the corner and biting his tongue as he watched Jim take off his suit jacket and sit down. "I'll be ready in just a couple minutes."

"If I get the good coffee, what do I care?"

"You, sir, are in for a treat," Greg said as he poured Jim a cup of coffee from a thermos he had hidden away. "This isn't my normal blend."

"Oh?"

"This-- This," Greg said, handing Jim the mug. "is authentic Jamaican Blue Mountain. It's not Kopi Luwak, but it's up there for being the most sought after."

"Okay, I'll bite. What is Kopi Luwak?"

"Kopi Luwak is the most expensive and rare coffee in the world. You see there's this funny looking little marsupial called a Luwak. It lives in Java, Sumatra and Sulawesi and it eats only the ripest coffee cherries, but the thing is they're unable to digest the coffee beans and evidently the Luwak's stomach acids and enzymes add something to the fermentation process."

"Are you saying that the beans are--"

"Yep, the locals collect the beans out of the ... deposits left by the Luwaks. Supposedly it's a good heavy coffee with a caramel taste. Personally, I've never tried it. It's amazing some of the things that people are willing to put in their mouths," Greg said lightly, staring at Jim's mouth.

"Uh huh," Jim said, eyes narrowing, clearly not sure how to take that last comment.

Mentally castigating himself for being too obvious and making Brass suspicious, Greg launched into an explanation about the coffee. "Anyway, like I said this is Jamaican Blue Mountain. Only about fifteen percent of the coffee grown in Jamaica is authentic Blue Mountain. Normally, I don't splurge on it, but my mom sent me some for my birthday."

"This was a gift? You should've kept it for yourself, kid."

"Nah, it's too good not to share. Besides, you've volunteered to keep me company at lunch, which is my treat by the way."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I was just going to grab something quick, and probably tasteless, from the vending machines since Nick bailed on me. You're keeping me company so I'll get myself out of the building, therefore, my treat. Now, you sit there and enjoy that while I finish up here."

With that Greg turned around and went back to work on the samples he'd been given earlier in the day. He knew that Brass was watching him which was making it hard to concentrate, but he still managed to make sure to "display" himself to his advantage. Having given up his stool to Brass, he made sure to bend over and lean on the table. When he finished up and turned to Brass, he was pleased to see a bit of a flush on the older man's face.

"You ready to go?"

"Sure thing, Sanders. I'm driving," Jim said as he got up and they headed out of the building.

They didn't say anything as they headed across the parking lot to Jim's car. Jim got in and leaned across to unlock the passenger side for Greg. It was just a regular old sedan, but Greg had to smile as he sat down and noticed that it was a stick. His mind immediately came up with a variety of quips about how he wouldn't mind Jim handling his stick, but none of them made it out of his mouth.

"Okay, Captain, where are we going?"

"You tell me, Mister My Treat, and it's Brass or Jim. It's gonna be a long lunch if you keep calling me Captain all the time."

"Okay. As long as you call me Greg," he said with a shy smile. "I was thinking about this great little dive I know. It's a little out of our way, but you'll love it. It's just off Fremont--"

"I know the place. Barry's, best chili dogs in town," Jim laughed as he started up the car and pulled out.

"And they've got those real boardwalk fries to go with them. So, uh Jim, you ever take Grissom to Barry's?"

"Huh? No, it's not his kind of place," Jim said, glancing over at Greg, hoping the kid would give something away about what he was up to with all this.

"Good."

"Good? Sanders--"

"Greg. You said if I called you Jim, you'd call me Greg."

"Fine. Greg."

"You like hockey?" Greg asked, trying his best to appear and sound innocent.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just have this spare ticket to the Wranglers versus the Bakersfield Condors. I've been looking for someone to take with me."

Greg winced and held on for dear life as Jim ignored the screeching of wheels and honking horns as he pulled them across two lanes of traffic to an empty spot on the curb. Greg swallowed hard when Jim slammed the car into neutral and yanked up the parking break. He knew he'd gone and said too much too fast. As soon as Brass turned to face him, Greg started backpedaling. He just hoped he hadn't completely screwed things up.

"If you're not interested, no problem. I mean, Nick would probably go with me if I asked him, I just thought, but uh never mind. We uh only have so much time for lunch so maybe we should just grab a bite somewhere around here and get back," Greg rambled, reaching for the door release and making sure not to look at Brass. He froze when Brass grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the door and forcing Greg to turn back towards him. "Captain?"

"Sanders. You are staying right where you are until you tell me what's going on. First lunch, then hockey tickets?! What are you up to? If you're playing with me," Jim growled.

"I uh -- Well, you see -- It's like this. I heard--"

"Spit it out! What did you hear?!"

"I-heard-Grissom-and-Catherine-talking-and-I-know-you-and-he-were-going-out-but-you-broke-up-and-I-wanted-to-see-if-you'd-go-out-with-me."

"What?," Jim asked, completely confused by the rapid fire response from Greg.

Taking a deep breath, Greg looked Brass right in the eyes and forged ahead. "Go out with me. Please."

"Go out with you? Like on a date?," Jim asked needing to verify that he was hearing this right. It was not what he'd been expecting at all.

"Yeah. I know I'm not Grissom, but you'll have a good time. I promise. I got seats close to the ice, right behind the glass for us. You'll be able to see all the action and the blood and everything."

"Do you even like hockey?"

"No idea. I've never been."

"You don't even know if you like hockey, but you shelled out for rinkside seats?"

"I remembered you saying something about playing hockey and figured you'd like --" Greg said, trailing off as Jim turned back around in the driver's seat and pulled back into traffic. "We headed back to the office?"

"Nope. We're headed to Barry's where I will be treating you to lunch since you covered the cost of the hockey tickets."

"You'll be -- Yes? You're going with me?"

"It'd be a shame to let those tickets go to waste," Jim said with a smirk. "Besides, how often does an old cop like me get asked out by a dishy young lab rat?"

"Dishy? You think I'm dishy?"

"Don't let it go to your head, kid, but, yeah, I think you definitely qualify as dishy," Jim said, chuckling at the way Sanders was bouncing in his seat. "So you better tell me when the game is or this whole going out thing won't get very far."

"Thursday night. I checked the roster before I bought the tickets so you wouldn't have to swap shifts or anything."

"How about we grab dinner first? My treat."

"I thought lunch was your treat since I've got the tickets."

"I think I can handle it."

"I think you can handle a lot of things," Greg muttered, blushing beet red when Jim started laughing. "uh I--"

"Saved by the bell there, kid," Jim said as he pulled into a parking spot across from Barry's. Turning off the car, he turned that quirky smile of his on Greg. "C'mon, kid. Let's go. Suddenly I'm VERY hungry."

It took Greg a minute to get himself together. Jim had gotten out of the car, but Greg was still sitting there lost in thought. Jim Brass was flirting with me. He said he'd go out with me! He thinks I'm dishy! Realizing, he was getting left behind, Greg scrambled out of the car and chased after Jim.


End file.
